The Little Birdies that got Thrown Away
by Listening to trees
Summary: Still come out to play. In which a certain boy is captured on the rooftops before he ever becomes a Robin, and that changes the entire game. A Talon!Tim AU.
1. Prologue

At first, he kept thinking that Batman would come. Batman would always come, just like he did when he'd chased him across the rooftops, Batman would come and save the day. Would come and save him.

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(He refused to think about what happened when Batman came too late.)

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But Batman never came. No one did. Not even the Drakes had waited that long after reporting their missing child. Not when they had a second son on the way.

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This was how Timothy Drake died, and the Talon took his place. Not by the whip, or the brainwashing chemicals. Not by electrocution or solitary confinement. Tim Drake died when he realised no one would miss him, and he died alone.

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(His last thought was to wonder if this was how Jason felt, and if he had finally become closer to the boy in some way after all.)


	2. Chapter 1

This…changed things.

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For example, there was no one for Damian to usurp. There was no one Jason was succeeded by, and under the shadow of his death, Gotham became a grimmer place.

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Yes, Batman now crippled. Batman now tortured. Batman regularly beat criminals to a pulp, even as they begged for mercy.

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Do you think that killed the rise of the Red Hood, stillborn before its conception in a broken mind? Some things were fated, and one was the rebirth and exile of Jason Todd.

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(For this is what they never learned. For Gotham, permanent disability was not enough. Justice was not enough. Even murder was not enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

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But the boys of Gotham would never grow up, and never learn. This was to be their eternal playground, their Neverland.)

* * *

It wasn't every day that someone could sneak up on him, not since the League of Assassins. But considering that he'd taken off his helmet for a smoke, simply assuming no one would be around on the lonely rooftops as always, he supposed he'd let his guard down a bit.

.

Still, he wasn't so shabby that the knife came out of nowhere, and so he turned away the split second before it stabbed him and caught his first good look at his opponent.

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What the fuck? A Talon? Since when had he done anything to piss off the Court of Owls?

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He'd only a heartbeat to dwell on the thought before the man –or boy –leapt forward with a dagger in his hand. The next few seconds were a blur as Jason did his best to shake him off far enough to use his guns, but it was no use. Unsurprisingly, the Talon knew enough of his fighting style that he was kept at extremely close-quarters but for some reason, the fucker was also_ really _good. Good enough to rival an (ex-) Bat it seemed.

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Well, he no longer was just a Bat, and never let it be said that he had not picked up a few tips and tricks since then. He flashed out his knives to deflect the next blows and snarled.

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The Talon hissed back as he went for the sword strapped behind him. Oh no, he wasn't going to do that! It was Jason who dove in at him this time, attempting to nick an artery here or there, but the bastard was fast. It became a race to keep him from reaching for his longer blades as he blocked attacks from the shorter ones in the assassin's fists.

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...which was why he was too preoccupied to notice when his domino got ripped off as he dodged a lucky hit. Shit!

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By all rights, the split second hesitation that resulted in should've gotten him knifed, and it would've served him right. Rather, it was the Talon who froze, and Jason was _not_ expecting what came out of his mouth next.

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"J. J'son….?"

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Had he not had training in keeping his face level, he would've gawped. He should deny it, but the Talon seemed so certain. So he performed a speedy nerve strike and disarmed him instead. "How do you know my name?!" He demanded.

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The Talon shook his head. "J'son." He croaked. "_Alive._" Then he did something even more preposterous. He _smiled._

_._

What the actual fuck. How. Why. Jason didn't know what was going on anymore, so he did the next best thing he knew how: he knocked the Talon unconscious.

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_When in doubt, contain the potential threat. _Bruce's voice instructed in his head. Jason cursed again. He just knew it was a bad night when he was beginning to hear _Bruce_, of all people.

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He should end the boy right then and there. Not only had he seen his face and guessed his identity, he did not seem coherent enough for investigation, and was in all likelihood going to commit suicide before forced to open his mouth. Besides, Jason was once a Bat, and for a Bat, even dead bodies usually held enough clues.

.

Except, this Talon barely seemed, what? Sixteen? Fifteen? Talon or no, Jason would have to be a real son of a bitch to kill a kid. And. And when the guy had said Jason's name, he sounded so _happy_ about it. Like he was real glad to see Jason alive.

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Like he was happier than Bruce to see Jason alive.

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(The ugly bitterness and rage, he expected. The hurt, he did not. He ignored how swollen his throat suddenly felt at the thought.)

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Anyways, a motherfucking random _assassin_ was glad to see Jason alive. There was no way he wasn't getting to the bottom of that.

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Now what was he going to do with him?


End file.
